A beautifully designed but ponderously executed attempt to summon up the spirit of the Austrian fin-de-siècle painter, which dispenses with biographical fidelity in favour of a shifting, semi-surreal dreamscape - somewhat in the manner of Ruiz's Proust adaptation, Time Regained. Here, though, he is effectively scuppered by the cliches of the artist biography (involving much stilted discussion of the function of allegory); only sporadically does Ruiz come up with a device or idea that properly illuminates Klimt's art. I can also report that, contrary to past habits, John Malkovich fails to wreck proceedings by adopting a preposterous accent; he's comparatively restrained throughout.